Truth in Transformation
by Little Miss Mionie
Summary: Two years after Voldemort's fall, Harry admits to himself what he can't ignore any longer: that he isn't male. Harry begins to express their true gender identity amidst the war trial against Draco Malfoy, spinning the Wizarding tabloids into a frenzy. [Post-DH, transgender and queer characters.] Co-written by Mrs Clare Malfoy.
1. Changes

**Truth in Transformation**

**Written by** Little Miss Monie and Mrs Clare Malfoy

**Rated M** for frequent coarse language, violence and sex scenes.

**Author's Notes:** It is SO GREAT to be back and writing in the fanfic world! This fic is being written predominantly by me, Little Miss Mionie, with the second half co-written by the wonderful Mrs Clare Malfoy. Updates will be every three weeks at this stage. Considerable effort has been made to use current, correct and appropriate trans and queer terminology and to steer from stereotypical focuses on physical or genital changes. Much thanks is owed to the further insight provided wonderful autostraddle articles, Janet Mock's amazing, revolutionary book _Redefining Realness_ and the HP Wiki for when I'm a bad fan and I forget a character's name or a spell.

**Trigger warnings** for gender dysphoria, transphobia, transitioning, homophobia, self-harm, suicide and physical and emotional abuse. If this fic raises concerns for you, in Australia there is Lifeline (13 11 14) and Headspace (1800 650 890); in the UK there is the London Lesbian and Gay Switchboard (0300 330 0630) and in America there is the GLBT hotline (1 888 843 4564).

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><p><strong>1. Changes<strong>

Change, transitions; these concepts had never brought Harry Potter any luck. Loved ones died and children were forced to play adult. Terror governed and misery ruled. You could say Harry hated change for a very long time. But piece by piece, day by day, something extraordinary happened to make Harry accept and respect and adore change. It was in those days that Harry began to transition.

Looking back, Harry almost wished he'd experienced the gender dysphoria, as he'd learned to call it, in his school years. Hogwarts had been a continuum of transitions; the switching staircases, the new passwords, the revolving door of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. As a teenager, while going through all the changes and challenges, voicing the deep dark whispers that kissed along his mind might not have been met with such confusion. Such shock. Such misunderstanding.

But maybe Harry was wrong. It had been hard enough, in his final two years of schooling, to deal with all of the repercussions of Tom rising again. Maybe understanding the dysphoria would have sent him over the edge.

Harry was nineteen when he began to discover he wasn't the Boy Who Lived. It wasn't out of a need to shed the constant glory of being he who killed Voldemort; it wasn't because all of the father figures in his life had died. It wasn't because he was raised by a family who kept him out of sight. It _was_ because he couldn't ignore the signs and symbols any longer.

It was two years after the war. Harry had been dating Ginny, still; he lived in a flat above the Three Broomsticks with Neville Longbottom, who was studying to be a professor of Herbology. He spent most of his time being with Ginny or trying and failing to study for his second-level Auror exams with Ron. On the weekends, he'd watch Ginny at her training matches with the Holyhead Harpies and have lunch at the Burrow. Three nights a week he babysat little Teddy Lupin while Andromeda went out for some R and R. Life was pleasant; it had rhythm. Oh, Harry still had nightmares and got triggered every time someone cast a green-hued spell near him. His hands often shook for no reason, and he was content to pretend he didn't know Ginny was cheating on him. But these quiet and loud interruptions began to feel normal, like a normal part of his life. The bad guys had either died in that final battle, or been sentenced to Azkaban. Even Malfoy wasn't around to endlessly annoy Harry anymore.

In two years since peace had been restored, the Wizarding press hadn't lost its fondness for Harry. That's where the creeping realisation started, really. Harry stopped reading the Daily Prophet because they kept running stories on the _Boy _Who Lived's donations to charity; he persuaded Ginny to take down a copy of her Witch Weekly's Bachelor issue that she'd magically duplicated and stuck on he and Neville's fridge as a cheeky joke, because he didn't want to be reminded he was the Weekly's editors Number One wish-he-was-a-_bachelor_ contender.

Hermione was perceptive; there was no questioning her intelligence. But her days were filled with studying to be a witching lawyer and having rows with Ron, which meant Harry's slowly alkalising mood slipped by unnoticed by her. It was his girlfriend, Ginny, who had noticed something first.

They'd been dancing around it for months, now. Harry hadn't made much of an effort in their sex life, but with mutual trauma, depression and grief from the war between them, a diminishing sexual appetite wasn't anything new to either of them. Ginny had slowly trained her viridescent-eyed boyfriend to love a good snuggle, in any case, and so she seemed content with that for the time being.

The youngest Weasley had been a big learning curve for Harry. She'd been the one to teach him to be emotionally and physically intimate with someone. Every sex position or act or game with her had been the first for Harry; and he wasn't complaining, because it had been great! His slowly evaporating desire for sex with Ginny was another indicator that change was coming for him, full force. His love and lust for Ginny, especially at the proper start of their relationship, had been fire and combustion and heat. It had confirmed to him that he was a guy's guy - he loved sex. That's what being a man was all about, right?

They'd traded _I love you's_ a long time ago. Ginny left her toothbrush in Harry and Neville's bathroom and walked around his kitchen in her underwear, much to Neville's embarrassment. Harry did really care for her deeply; he was sure Ginny felt the same for him, too. But they didn't have the all-encompassing, getting-married-and-having-three-kids kind of love that he saw in the eyes of his adopted family, the Weasleys, and their respective partners. Ginny and he had fun and they understood each other. Ginny put up with him yelling when he got angry and he put up her leaving the bathroom in a complete mess. She helped him calm down when he got the shakes from seeing a green light, and he gave her space when she became possessed by Tom Riddle in her nightmares. They worked very well together, by all accounts.

But they were separate entities - they weren't cohesive, entwined, one.

They were temporary, and neither one of them wanted to admit it.

That evanescence lead Harry to his current situation on a sunny July morning. In his bed, naked, awkwardly still inside Ginny while she gazed at his chest, defeated after a night of fighting and bad sex.

"This isn't working, is it, Ginny?" Harry asked softly.

Harry looked down to see Ginny frozen in fear. Her fingers had stopped tracing the lines of his chest. He could hear her breathing loudly.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked nervously, beginning to loop her fingers across his body again.

Harry exhaled, and closed his eyes. "You're sleeping with someone else. I-think you're in…." Harry swallowed heavily. "…in love with someone else."

Ginny shook her head, fire slowly heating in her voice. "If this is just because we had a big night last night, Harry, then I think you're overreacting-"

"I can smell her perfume on you, Ginevra," Harry confessed loudly.

Ginny had been training with her dream team, the Holyhead Harpies, since the beginning of the year. It was now July, and her private training sessions with her coach had become more frequent and lengthy with each passing week. She adored her coach, and her team: the female bond she obviously felt with her teammates made Harry envy her.

Ron had teased Ginny with a touch of homophobia about being on a women's Quidditch team - everyone knew lots of lesbians played professionally, right? Ginny had blushed and looked upset rather than hollered at her dolt of a brother, as she was wont to do. Homosexuality in the Wizarding world…well, it may be the late 90s, but magical folk in England still acted like it was the early 80s in the midst of the HIV epidemic. Silent on the most part, accepting in the fringes, mostly referenced in misinformed jokes or insults. It wasn't long before the thought finally crossed Harry's often slow-on-the-uptake mind; that Ginny had feelings for someone on her team.

In late June, Harry smelt a different woman's perfume on Ginny. It was all over her body. He'd been shocked, and had raged internally with jealousy for many weeks. _Did it make him less of a man that Ginny had obviously fallen very hard for another woman_? he'd worried.

But then the sneaking statement always slithered to the forefront of his mind..._ But you aren't a man, are you, Harry?_

Ginny and he both kept secrets locked up tighter than the Chamber of Secrets, then. Harry didn't know how to feel about the cheating - angry, hurt, jealous. But he thought of the Weasley family's domestic morality, and how alone and confused and scared he felt right now, and he didn't even know what was happening with this whole gender…identity….thing, let alone his sexuality. He became worried for Ginny; worried for her future with her family, with her friends - how scared must she feel to be discovering her sexuality? And so for months longer than he should, he stayed in the relationship, perhaps for both their sakes.

But right in this moment, Harry almost wished he'd continued this charade of ignorance. At his words, Ginny looked as though she'd been hit by a rogue bludger. She pushed herself off Harry and away from the bed, hugging her thin frame, her face twisted in grief and shame and stubbornness.

She finally moved her gaze back to Harry's. His heart almost broke then and there. He immediately regretted confronting her as she asked painfully, "Do you hate me?" and collapsed into aching sobs on the floor.

Harry cast a quick _muffliato _and came to sit by Ginny. She refused to let Harry touch her, so he waited until she felt strong enough to speak.

"It's Valmai." The Harpies' newest Chaser - in the same position as Ginny. It wasn't their coach, Gwenog, like Harry had suspected. "I'm so sorry I cheated on you; that I have been cheating on you," Ginny admitted softly, wiping her nose on her bare freckled arm. Harry was glad she acknowledged that it had at least been an affair. "I had never thought in a million years I would do that. I had loved you all my life."

The past tense cut Harry deeper than he'd thought.

Harry took a deep breath. "It hurts, I'm not going to lie. When I first figured it out, I blew up half the kitchen I was so pissed. But now I'm just worried."

"Worried?" Ginny looked confused through bleary eyes.

"Have _you _met your mother?"

Ginny looked as though she'd been stunned. Her face became impassive for several moments before she grabbed Harry's face and pleaded tearfully, as though pleading for her life.

"Please, Harry, please," she begged, her chin wobbling with grief. "They'd kill me. _I'd_ kill me. I don't know what I'm doing. Please, please, please_. We can't do this."_

Without another word, Ginny she smashed her lips against Harry's own and kissed him forcefully. She pushed him back to the floor and her hands began to explore his body once again. Confusion and anger and hate and sadness roared inside of Harry. He tried to push Ginny off of him, but he found himself shaky and weak.

"Stop," Harry told her as Ginny began to grab him in her left hand. He was flaccid and scared of what he was feeling. Ginny let go and threw up her hands. "I can't - be - _gay!_" she screamed at him. Their bedside lamp flew and shattered across the room at Ginny's anguish and anger. Their lights flickered violently.

Harry recoiled at her raw voice. It was scratched with a self-hatred Harry only knew too well. Ginny, breathing heavily, seemed to hear the echoes of her words. She implored Harry to come closer. She traced the outline of his face, fingers trembling.

"I can't be gay, Harry," she repeated in a lost voice.

Harry held her trembling fingers and found himself saying through tears, "I can't keep pretending anymore."

Ginny closed her eyes and swallowed her own anxiety for a moment. "Are you…are you gay, too?" Her words belied that she too had known something hadn't been all right with him for a very long time.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so."

Ginny sniffed. "But you aren't Harry. You aren't my Harry."

"I don't know who I am," he said slowly, as though saying the truth would unfurl a darkness he didn't want to see. "I just know that _this_ isn't me."

Ginny didn't ask any more of Harry. Maybe she didn't want to know. Maybe she knew more than Harry himself did. They sat side by side in the streaming sun, quiet and fearful of what was to happen when this moment was over.

"What are we going to do?" Ginny asked after a long stretch of silence. She slipped her hand into his. He felt it there, barely, a cold comfort.

"I don't know," was all Harry could reply.

Hermione had come over to study at Harry and Neville's place that afternoon. It was quiet, unlike the Burrow, where Ron still lived, and so impromptu study sessions from the brightest witch of their age had become the norm. Hermione liked that Harry held up flashcards without complaining, unlike her boyfriend.

Neville had obviously told Hermione when she walked in about Harry and Ginny's abrupt…._whatever was happening_. Harry and Ginny hadn't said anything to him. But when Neville had offered them chamomile tea for breakfast Ginny had broke down crying and Harry had retreated to his room.

Everyone's favourite couple was breaking up, even if they could only just admit that to themselves. Ginny didn't want to come out, and neither did Harry. Ginny had wanted to stay in the relationship, but being Ginny's boyfriend was just too much for him to handle. He fit perfectly inside Ginny when he didn't want to at all. He didn't want to be her husband, her man, her equal partner, the father of her children. He didn't want to fend off jokes about Ginny having her man wrapped around her little finger.

Ginny didn't want her affair with Valmai to get out, and Harry didn't want the Weasley family to feel awkward because he wasn't dating their daughter anymore. They had come to an agreement that they would break up to, quote, 'focus on their careers'. It would be slow and tortuous but hopefully no one would get hurt.

Ginny had left to go fly at the training grounds for a few hours. Harry had confined himself to his room, which after a while he had realised was a bad idea. By the time Hermione arrived, he was ready to burn the place down.

He looked around his room and saw posters of his favourite Quidditch male players, all orange and brawn and smiles. He saw their strength and bravado and physicality and it made him sick because that's what he saw in the mirror. He didn't want to be in his own skin. Harry didn't want his life right now. But too many people had given their own so Harry could live in his; he couldn't just throw away their sacrifice.

How on earth was he meant to figure what was happening? How on earth could this ever work? What had he become?

_(What had he always been?)_

Hermione knocked on Harry's door around four pm. "Can I come in?" she asked, her voice muffled from the wall.

Harry did a quick wordless spell to straighten his room up (smooth the sheets, fix the lamp, open a window) and wandlessly unlocked the door. He sat cross-legged on his bed in a Holyhead fan t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He didn't bother to pretend to be reading a textbook. "Hi, Hermione," he greeted softly.

Hermione came and sat down on his bed, strewing her books beside her. "Are you and Ginny okay?" she asked, straight to the point.

Harry looked her over. Hermione appeared tired, as usual. She worked late nights as a Hogwarts NEWTS tutor to support herself through witching university, which didn't allow her much time for sleep, at any rate. She had cut her hair shorter after the war so that it came just under her chin. Hermione had figured out some spell with Fleur to defrizz it while she was in Australia, bringing her parents back, as the immense heat frazzled it out to the extreme. It was still a mess of waves and curls, but had a less harried air about it. Her refusal to wear make up didn't hide her exhausted look. It made Harry wonder how many of them had really caught a break after all the fighting. Had they ever really rested?

Or had Harry just ended one battle to charge headlong into another?

Harry decided Hermione was probably a good place to start the Weasley grapevine. Not that she'd say anything unless Harry okayed it, but at the very least she'd get her facts straight when she passed along the break up news.

"Nope," he said with a half-smile. "We're breaking up."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione replied softly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's for the best," he said, shrugging. His best friend frowned, obviously not expecting him to be so calm about the whole thing. She witnessed fights between Harry and Ginny before. There had been literal fireworks in some cases.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

Harry felt his next sentence, ready to be nonchalant, refuse to come out of his mouth. Emotion seized him like devil's snare. This was really happening. He was really breaking up with Ginny, because he…because he….oh, Merlin. _Oh god._

Harry closed his eyes and breathed in and out shakily, trying to get a grip on his resolve. His guilty fingers slipped. Hermione moved closer and held his hand reassuringly. She was clearly worried. Hell, Harry was worried. He hadn't felt so anxious about anything but spells in years.

"You can tell me, Harry, it's okay. I won't go anywhere."

Harry opened his eyes and stared at into Hermione's concerned brown gaze. He looked for some kind of confirmation, some kind of resolution he could jump from. Hermione was wise, and mature: he could trust her with his heart, with his life. She was the brightest witch of her age: she would know how to help him, right?

Harry couldn't say it out loud. He was afraid he'd cry, or worse, no words would come out at all. He grabbed one of Hermione's quills from the bed and scrawled out a sentence on the corner of her notes:

_I don't think I'm male._

Those few words held that devastating instant when he was four and his aunt explained to him he was a boy and that's why it was a shame he was so scrawny and weak. They held every memory of his childhood where he wished he could play families with the girls down the street and play the mum. They held every desire to be called _she_ and _her_. They held every moment of secret excitement he felt to know he had his mother's eyes, and that maybe he looked like her, too.

He passed the note slowly to Hermione, and watched fearfully for her response.

She took one look at the parchment and held herself very, very still. She looked up at her best friend, shaking her head from side to side slightly.

"I don't know what to do," Harry sobbed, his face crumpling in misery.

Hermione seemed to awaken from whatever trance she had been in. She let go of Harry's hand, and stood up off the bed. Harry felt terror rise inside of him as Hermione appeared to be withdrawing from him.

But Hermione did not withdraw. She moved closer and gathered her best friend, her little brother, into a hug. "It's okay," was the first thing Hermione said, soft and reassuring.

The relief and pain was more stunning than any hex Harry had ever experienced.

_It's okay, it's okay,_ went the mantra in his head.

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><p><strong>AN:** Please let us know what you think! Now, off to chapter two you go... :)


	2. Definitions

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with this story so far. I'm positively shivering with excitement over writing a fic that feels interesting, right and complex enough. It would be fantastic if you could let me know how this chapter is. Kudos to Mrs Clare Malfoy for all her help! Trigger warnings again apply as in the first chapter - please invest in self care!

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><p><strong>2. Definitions<strong>

Hermione heaved a giant tome from the bookshelf and slammed it onto their table, ignoring the disapproving look from the nearby librarian. Harry stared at it nervously, fists in his jacket pockets, too afraid to sit down at the table. Hermione took a seat, carefully opening the cover, before looking up at Harry.

"You've faced death and won, Harry," she reasoned with him softly. "A book isn't going to kill you. This one doesn't even have teeth."

Harry swallowed nervously and took a seat. He glanced around the library one more time to make sure they weren't alone. It was foolish of him to be so paranoid – they were in a Muggle library in inner-city London, far away from magical prying eyes. Hermione had suggested they come to look at some books on gender to see if they could put a name to what Harry was experiencing. Under the guise of Hermione and Harry going to see a movie, a delight Ron didn't share with his fanaticising father, they had decided to go a week after Harry had first confided in his best friend. Not even the familiar rhythm of sneaking around and looking for clues could make this less of a scary experience for Harry. He didn't know what he'd find in this book.

"I'm just nervous that it will say I'm completely barmy," the raven-haired young man replied after a moment.

Hermione gave Harry a stern look. "You are not 'barmy'. I've heard of men wanting to be women before, so you knowing you are…well, it doesn't seem so different. I'm going to open the book now, okay? Scoot over so you can read with me."

Harry moved closer. Hermione ran a finger down the contents page of the book they'd chosen after going through tens, _Gender and Sexuality: A Psychologist's Guide_. They found a section on 'gender confusion' and began to read.

"I'm actually bonkers," Harry whispered after the third page. Hermione was shaking her head sternly at the book. "No, no you're not, this _book_ is bonkers."

Harry found it within the compressing despair he was feeling to crack a feeble joke. "Did you just criticise a book, Hermione?"

Hermione shut it firmly and put it back in its place on the shelf. Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She could see he was trying not to panic, or cry, or throw something. His bushy-haired friend looked around the library, before her sight set on something. She yanked Harry with determination towards the bulky, cream computers that sat at the far end of the library.

She chose one of three and, using the guest library passwords displayed above the monitor, logged onto the internet. She typed exceptionally fast on the keys.

"You think we could find something there?" Harry asked. He'd never really used a computer before; he had mostly seen Dudley play and yell obscenities at his games on it. "Like a website or something that has info about not really being a guy?"

Hermione was typing a more articulate version of Harry's just-uttered phrase into a search engine. She clicked 'enter', and waited for the results to load on the snail paced Internet connection. "Maybe, but I'm thinking there might be a forum or chat room or something where other people have talked about their experiences…."

"A chat room? Like, strangers talking on the Internet?"

"Yes, they're quite popular, didn't you know? I use them sometimes to talk about my favourite novels."

"Have you found other lost souls who have also read _Hogwarts: A History_?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Don't be cheeky, mister, or you can be the one typing."

Harry felt a sadness pull him down further at Hermione's words. He avoided her sympathetic gaze. "It hurts to be called 'mister'?" she asked. Harry nodded in response. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He too was still figuring out what was working for him in his post-confession-of-gender world.

The search results finally loaded. "Ah-ha! Look! A forum for lesbian and gay teens…" Hermione clicked on the site. The explored each discussion thread carefully, before finding one that seemed to match Harry's. Someone had title the thread _Gender dysphoria?!_

The main post read:

_Hi all. Newbie here, been lurking 4 a while but this is mi first post. I wondered if anyone is in the same boat as me? I was born a boy and I have always hated it. Since I was little I hav always known I should be a girl, it's more than just dressing up like my drag friends…_

_I no deep down I am female but my body doesn't match how I feel. I'm getting pretty depressed and feeling really alone… my parents sent me to a shrink who says I might have 'gender dysphoria'. Does anyone else hav this? Or hav you heard of it b4? All info I can find on the net says that it means u are transgender, like you are not the gender or sex you were assignd at birth. That sounds exactly like me. I want to no if anyone is transgender and if you can b the gender you want to b. Is it hard?_

_Help pls! xx Dee_

They were over thirty replies, with strangers' various tales of their own experiences as transgendered people. They talked about 'transitioning', about living lives as the real gender they were, about it getting easier, and about how hard it was.

"So I'm experiencing being a…_ transgendered_ person? I'm transgender?" Harry wondered out loud. It felt strange and yet comforting to roll of his tongue. He wasn't alone, other people had been through this too…even if they were strangers on the web…

Suddenly, Hermione hit herself in the forehead with the computer mouse at Harry's words. "Of course! I knew I had heard something about this. Did you hear about that movie, _Boys Don't Cry_, that's coming out later this year?"

Harry shook his head; he and Hermione _did_ often go to the cinemas, but he was more of an action watcher, whereas she enjoyed indie films.

"It's about a transgender….boy? I'm assuming you use the, um, wanted gender when referring to someone, yes?" Hermione looked at the computer, as if for confirmation of the correct terminology in one glance, before continuing. "It's about someone who is transgender who falls in love with a girl in a small town but, um, gets really horribly brutalised by these men. It's based on a real-life case that happened in America. Very sad."

Harry closed his eyes, letting all of the information they'd found in the last hour wash over him. It felt heavy and almost unwanted. Transgender. People like him. In a real life. In a movie. In a world where people didn't understand.

It was almost too much to bear.

"I think we've had enough research for today," came Hermione's voice from in front of him. "Come on, let's go back to my place and have some tea."

Harry felt emotionally numb as he warmed his cold hands around a large mug of earl grey at Hermione's flat. Hermione was curled up opposite him on her old, brown lounge. The TV was on in the background as white noise to fill the contemplative silence that consumed them both.

"Ron won't be here until later tonight, so we can hang out for as long as you'd like," Hermione offered kindly. Harry mustered up a weak smile in thanks.

"Has Ron said much about how Ginny's doing?" he asked quietly. It had been a five days the golden couple had broken up. They hadn't exactly told anyone they were over, but the signs were there. Ginny had thrown herself into her Harpies practice, while Harry had skipped three Auror training sessions. He hadn't felt this low in a really long time. It had been hard to get out bed that morning; everything was exhausting. He wished he had Ginny's determination – or avoidance tactics, whatever they were. At least she seemed productive in the wake of their break up for the _Witch Weekly_ tabloids. He wasn't too upset about their breakup: with all this…transgender….business, he hadn't had a lot of time for it to really sink in. It was also possible that their relationship really had ended for the best, if he didn't feel so much after.

"Said she's fine, been busy all week. A little sad. I mean, you were the love of her life."

Harry had kept his word about concealing Ginny's sexuality and her affair. "Maybe when she was eleven…but we both grew up. And we just weren't right for each other. I don't think all Hogwarts relationships are meant to last past graduation."

"I agree," Hermione replied. "We're young, we don't need to settle so soon. Ron certainly needs to do a little more maturing. Hence why I live by myself; I don't want to become Molly Weasley 2.0 for him."

Harry smiled at that image. "It also allows you to read trashy romance novels in your pyjamas on a Friday night without shame," he said slyly.

Hermione blushed. "You know me too well…"

They lulled back into a comfortable quiet, drinking their tea.

Harry could feel the sadness trying to tug him away, reaching down deep. He owed Hermione for all her support so far, and couldn't check out just yet. He took a few breaths and determined to having Hermione-focused conversation for the rest of his stay. "So how's law going?"

Hermione sighed. "Hard. Not as hard as I'd like. There are some serious flaws in the Wizarding legal system. I'm applying for an internship with the Hecate firm, actually, for the upcoming Death Eater trials."

Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised. The trials of _Death Eaters vs People_ had been two years in the making: the broken Ministry had needed time to put a proper case forward to charge those who had been on Voldemort's side (or so Hermione had explained when he'd been outraged that nothing had happened in those first months.) Many Death Eaters had been locked up in a new prison on the outskirts of Scotland, or put under house arrest. "That's a pretty landmark case; but knowing you, I'm sure you'll get it. What will you be doing with the firm?"

"Mostly running around, organising their paperwork and minor things like that since I'm just a student. It will be utterly fascinating to watch the whole process up close, though." Hermione drank the last dregs of her tea. "Difficult to watch, knowing and seeing what those inhumane people did… but I'd be foolish to let that stop from working on such a case."

"Which side will you be representing?"

"The Defence," Hermione said.

Harry felt his respect for Hermione go up a notch, if that was at all possible. Not everyone who had hurt them and their friends had died in 1997. She had more guts than he to face them everyday for weeks and to remain impassive.

"You're going to be a great lawyer, Hermione," Harry praised her.

Hermione smiled nervously. "Y-you're going to be a great woman one day," she responded, unsure if it was the right thing to say or not.

_One day_, Harry reflected. It sounded hopeful.

Harry bid Hermione goodbye not long after, and got ready to babysit Teddy for the night. He headed above to the Tonks residence at six pm. He knocked loudly, hoping Andromeda could hear his arrival through the loud, pouring rain around him. It was a gloomy old night, that was for sure. It certainly suited Harry's mood….he heard Teddy's tiny footsteps scurrying towards the door and Harry prepared himself to be happy for his godson. He deserved better than mopey-Uncle Harry tonight.

"Wait, wait a moment, Theodore…" Harry heard Andromeda's voice as Teddy tried to grab the door handle.

"It's Harry, Andromeda," the green-eyed young man offered. The handle twisted and Teddy exclaimed loudly, "Harryyyyyyyyy!"

Harry swooped his godson into a hug and walked through the doorway, hoisting Teddy on his hip. "Hello! Hello! Hello!" Teddy was parroting at him so loudly Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Hey, Teddy," Harry greeted with a kiss on the boy's cheek. He ruffled Teddy's hair, centring himself in the moment, smelling toddler and whatever Andromeda had cooking on the stove.

Harry tacked on a smile, letting his troubles retreat to the back of his mind for the moment, and let himself fall into the familiar sound of Teddy's lovable chatter.

Teddy squirmed in Harry's grasp, so he let him down gently. Andromeda stepped forward to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting. Harry pushed his hair behind his ears and smiled nervously. "You look nice," Harry said, gesturing to the elder Tonks' gothic dangling earrings. "Where are you off to tonight?"

"I'm going to the theatre with some of Ted and I's Muggle friends," Andromeda replied warmly. "It should be rather dreadful; it's one of their sons' performances in a small production of _Macbeth_."

"Glad I'm not going, then."

Andromeda checked the time; it was ten past six. "Yes, well, I better be off. There's stew on the stove for you and Teddy…." She leaned closer to Harry, lowering her voice. "Tell him it's red flavoured and that the green bits are green pasta, okay?"

Harry smiled. "Sure thing. Thanks for the stew."

Andromeda bid goodbye to her grandson and apparated just outside her doorstep with a delicate 'pop'.

Teddy had hobbled over to a brightly coloured box filled with his toys while they were talking, rifling loudly through it. He now came back over to Harry with a big book and was imploring him to read it to him with lots of gesturing and chirps of "read bookie!". _Harry, Grandma, ow_ and _read bookie_ were the main words in his vocabulary. Harry reckoned he was pretty smart for an almost two year old: Andromeda said it was magic, but Harry thought it was Remus' genes.

Harry crouched down low and persuaded his godson to come and eat dinner first (which really meant saying "we'll read bookie later…" and lifting him up over towards the kitchen). Harry spent a good twenty minutes feeding Teddy, which involved him eating mouthfuls and making contented sounds until Teddy was persuaded to eat, too. He loved copying Harry. Teddy, of course, got the red stew everywhere. Thank Merlin for cleaning spells - Harry wasn't sure how Muggle parents did it, some days. Harry considered himself fairly competent at caring for a baby, but was grateful he could always hand Teddy back to Andromeda after a couple of hours or days. He wasn't quite ready to be a parent yet.

Teddy gave his godfather a big, red grin as Harry finished cleaning the mess from the high chair tray. Harry couldn't help but smile back. He often wondered if he'd be enough for Teddy; if he could love him enough. He knew what it was like to grow up without parents, and he wanted Teddy to always feel loved and surrounded.

His godson certainly adored him, especially now he was old enough to be more aware of other people and his wants and dislikes. He loved playing catchies with a spare snitch Harry had, and having Harry read to him, and the cuddle him when he was upset. Harry felt that dejected sense of hollowness creep in again as he wondered to himself…_ would Teddy still love me if I wasn't Harry anymore?_

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><p><strong>AN: **Naww, poor Harry. This story will be full of angst, but will aim to show Harry's journey to a happier self. How sneaky of me that this timeline and Boys Don't Cry's release is the same, hey? :) Please review - and follow my tumblr littlemissmione. tumblr. com for Truth in Transformation updates, sneak peeks and pics. x LMM


	3. Discussions

**A/N:** Thanks to Dee Dee, Rosette-99, Ally and Pretty Phoenix for your lovely first reviews and discussions with me about _Truth_! To clarify, this story is set in 1999, but in order to keep up with current and respectful ideas and terminology about genders, those that are current will be used in this fic. Harry will eventually stop using 'he, his, him' pronouns and move to something more comfortable as they find what suits them. This fic is more than just Harry's journey to become his true self - see if you can spot any breadcrumbs!

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><p><strong>3. Discussions<strong>

Harry spent the weekend itching to find out more information on being transgender. _Transgender. _The more he thought about the word, the more it sounded not as scary.

Still almighty terrifying, though.

Harry met Hermione on Monday morning at her apartment to discuss his next steps.

"Let's be realistic - the Wizarding world doesn't really have the best grip on all things gender and sexuality," Hermione was saying as Harry polished off some biscuits she'd laid out for them both. The bright witch herself was multitasking, reading the Daily Prophet cover to cover. "For goodness sakes, even Dumbledore wasn't out of the closet, and he was the greatest wizard of his generation, and maybe the greatest of a few other generations, too!" Hermione looked at Harry closely, waiting for his reaction at her next words. "I think you should look at seeing a Muggle counsellor."

Harry considered this. "Will it be hard to find one that is….accepting of transgender stuff?"

"There will be lots of LGBT-specific ones we can find. Harry, I'm a little bit shocked that I know more about the gay world than you do. I'm very much a straight, cis-gendered woman whereas you've always known you were different somehow and-"

"'Siz-gendered'?"

Hermione smiled knowingly. "I've been doing some research; it sort of means the opposite of transgender, or gender fluid; someone who knows their true gender is the same as the sex assigned to them at birth. It's spelt c-i-s."

"Blimey," Harry exhaled in true Ron Weasley fashion. "I think you're going to have to help me study all of this stuff. And I'm not sure...I think I just avoided thinking about it or looking into it. Didn't want to confirm what I was feeling, I 'spose."

"So. Would you like to go find a counsellor? I've got to prepare for this Hecate interview I have next week, but you could always search for one on the internet back the the city library."

Harry nodded, trying not to give away his nerves. "Sounds like a plan. Thanks, again, for everything."

Hermione smiled before handing Harry the Prophet. "It looks like the prosecution is going to ask for life sentences for most of the Death Eaters, even the ones who were underage at the time."

Harry grabbed the paper and saw pictures of some of his classmates staring up at him. Draco Malfoy, who had been charged on conspiracy to murder as well as torturing Muggles, looked world-worn and decidedly un-haughty. "Sounds about right to me," Harry muttered.

Hermione raise an eyebrow. "Harry! You of all people I would expect to realise that one sentence to cover all manners of crimes isn't _just_. Draco Malfoy isn't equal in blame or evil to, say, as Lestrange was."

Harry and Hermione stared at each other. "He doesn't get to go to gaol for being a pompous git, Harry," Hermione argued.

Harry broke into a smile. "See! You're totally ready for this interview, then."

Hermione sighed with a laugh at his dupe. "That wasn't quite the most legal of defences, but thanks."

The two friends hugged farewell. Not long after, Harry found himself hunched over a rickety cream keyboard, double checking no one was looking over his shoulder at his search terms at the library.

_LGBT transgender counselling in London_, he typed into Google.

A few search results came up. Harry clicked through to the first and second links, reading the website and making notes as he went on a piece of parchment he'd grabbed from home. He wasn't as tech-savvy as Hermione was, so it took him a while to navigate the sites. The first website seemed to be a general information website about questioning your gender identity and hotlines to call. Harry made a note of them, before moving onto the second website, where Harry found what he was looking for.

There was a transgender-friendly counselling service only a couple of blocks from where the library was, on Shelton Street. From the minimalist website, they seemed nice and discreet. Harry wrote down the telephone number for the service and, after logging off the computer, made his way to a telephone box to call _Shelton LGBT Centre_.

"We have a drop-in service open until four pm today," a friendly centre voice, Rebecca, told Harry as he nervously stuttered out his intention for ringing. "You can come in and see if our counsellors will be the right fit for you."

Harry hung up with an awkward 'thanks' and decided to take the long way to Shelton Street: walking, not apparating. He needed to work up his courage. _I could really use a dash of Slughorn's old Felix,_ Harry reflected as he pushed open the purple-rimmed glass door to the _Shelton LGBT Centre_.

Harry met an intake officer, Jules, who made Harry a cup of very milky tea and gently coaxed answers out of him over the course of an hour or so. Yes, Harry gently admitted, he had never really felt like he fit in his gender. Harry embellished his story to seem Muggle-ish, but the bare bones were the same. He told himself it was years of the Dursley's condemnations of he, the freak, being too skinny, or too like his supposedly drunken father, or too magical. But when Hagrid brought him into the Wizarding World with a rap-a- tap-tap of his frilly peach umbrella, Harry was so awed and grateful at being known and heard and cared for, at first be strangers, and then by his adopted family, the Weasleys, that he pushed all of those feelings to the back of his mind and heart. He might have hated the fame, but the long-awaited acknowledgment of being something other than a waste of space as the _Boy_ Who Lived was not something Harry wanted to mess up.

Jules asked Harry about his family, his friends, what he did for fun, what his mental health track record had been like. His friends were his family, Harry relayed; he loved football and his training in the army; he'd suffered from PSTD and depression for the past two years after a murderer had threatened he and his loved ones.

Jules wrote this all down on a form held in a lime green clipboard. They told Harry to bring a referral from his doctor, and next time, he could make an appointment to see one of Shelton's counsellors. In the meantime, Jules began talking Harry through pamphlets about trans and other gender diverse people. It was a little confusing, but the pamphlets would help as a standby. Looking at them all, Harry knew Hermione would be thrilled.

Harry got the basic idea of how to use pronouns, and what words people used to identify themselves: _he, she, they, ze, zir, xe; transgender, trans, trans*_. _Sex assigned at birth_ instead of _born a boy_; it negated true gender identity from the outset. Jules explained that terminology use fluctuated with community preference and outsider awareness over time, and that all that mattered was what you felt described you best. Harry knew he didn't like hearing the words boy, or male to describe him; he silently tasted _trans_ on his lips again, and somewhat ashamedly liked how it felt, how it warmed him. How it warmed…_.them_?

Jules spoke about their own experience with transitioning, and about the little things that would help in the meantime, like talking to friends, and doing little things to keep Harry healthy and happy. Getting plenty of sleep, eating well, exercising, and maybe indulging in some quote unquote "gender fucking." (Harry took this to mean doing things undecidedly non-traditionally male). Jules finally let Harry go, telling the wizard to check in with himself regularly, and to call hotlines if he needed emergency help.

"Don't be afraid to dream of what your life will be like," Jules advised Harry with a parting wave.

Harry's head was so full of information about being transgender, he could hardly pay attention at training. He'd grabbed lunch on the way to the Ministry, second level, where his Auror training was located. He dodged Ron by going up the stairs; he didn't need a chummy chat right now.

It was Harry's second of the third year-long course, so he felt mostly comfortable in the course and with his fellow students. It helped having Ron there, although they weren't always in the same classes; due to Shacklebolt's relaxation of the Auror recruiting process, there were over sixty students enrolled to train as Aurors instead of the usual one or two. This meant that classes rotated for individual students. Ron was currently knee-deep in a fascinating but largely theory-based class of recognising and responding to spell damage, which Harry had taken last term. Harry was currently in the concealment and disguise class.

Harry scurried into class just in time. They were in a dark room at the back of the ministry; spooky and ominous were words Harry would use to describe it. His intimidating lecturer, the head of the Auror program, Robards, stood in front of the class. "Homework?" he inquired of Harry as he walked in.

Harry gingerly handed over this homework from last week - an essay, on which he hadn't done the best job, on account of being preoccupied with breaking up with his girlfriend and figuring the fuck out of his gender identity. _It's times like these I wish Tonks was still around to help me_, Harry mused, faking a smile at Robards.

"You feelin' better, Harry?" Seamus asked, Harry's one old familiar friend in this class, as the green-eyed wizard slid into a seat next to him. "Neville said you had a pretty bad flu."

Harry reminded himself to pick up a bottle of firewhiskey, or maybe some new strange pot plant, for his amazing housemate on the way home. Neville knew to cover for Harry's strange PSTD stuff; more than half the Wizarding world had it, yet no one really wanted to talk about it.

Harry was pretty sure Neville also felt fairly indebted to him since he hooked Neville up with Hannah two months ago, too.

"Stop your gossiping, Potter and Finnegan," Robards teased as he segued into the beginning of the lesson. "Right, second years; today's lesson marks the beginning of our practical phase. That's right, we will be testing out your theory on concealment and disguise in real time."

The class murmured in excitement. Robards grinned, too; he was definitely more of a physical teacher. With his wiry figure and copper, scruffy beard, he resembled a cunning fox. He had a demanding, confident presence in the room, and used the space to his full advantage, constantly moving to keep his easily distracted (or often hungover) young pupils engaged.

Robards continued. "By the end of this course, I would like to see each and every one of you successfully change your appearance so that you are unrecognisable in an undercover or operative situation. In the past, I have seen students change their hair colour, eye colour, body shape, and sometimes mostly importantly their mannerisms to disguise themselves effectively; some choose to change their appearance to be another human, while budding animagi have treated me to changing to something a little more...wild. One student received full marks for successfully transfiguring themselves in and out perfectly into a lamppost, of all things." The class chuckled with Robards at this. "It's the truth! This assignment allows you the full scope of disguise - I want to see a different side of you. Please write down the following criteria:."

Robards waiting for the scurrying of parchment and quill cases opening to cease.

"You must show me the following:

that you can disguise yourself as a different person, animal or object wholly; that the means by this is timely, 100% effective and magical, by means of spell, potion or otherwise; that your disguise can withstand an N-grade level of spell damage; and finally, and that your disguise is justified by a two foot parchment essay, complete with references."

Robards added one more statement. "It's worth noting that sometimes less is more. It's not all about turning yourself into a pumpkin."

Seamus and Harry excitedly discussed possible disguise ideas as they left the class. Seamus was well keen on trying to transfigure himself into a coin. They bumped into Ron, who looked rather put out that he was stuck with an essay on the Cruciatus Curse while his friends got to be 'bloody proper Aurors'.

Ron invited Seamus and Harry along for an afternoon drink at a small wizarding pub around the corner, but Harry declined, citing eagerness to get started on his disguise assignment.

"You've been spending too much time with my girlfriend, mate," Ron ribbed, but farewelled his best friend with their standard blokey clap-the-back-and-hug-one-handed hug.

Harry left Neville's small gift, the strangest (and safest) plant Harry could find in Diagon Alley, near his door as Neville was out when Harry returned home.

Harry's two assignments, he supposed you could say, echoed and entwined in his mind as he flipped open his old charms textbook: one, to not be afraid to dream of his future self, and two, to work on a complete disguise. Harry felt like he already had one on, this mask of masculine muscles and strong features. He had been pretending to be male forever. He wanted a soft figure, and a sure, intelligent demeanour; womanhood as he saw it in the women around him, Hermione, Ginny, Mrs Weasley, Andromeda, Luna. But to everyone else, _that_ would be the disguise.

_It couldn't hurt to finally try out that disguise, to see how I'd like to look,_ Harry reasoned, as he turned to the chapter on makeup charms, and began reading about charming nail polish onto his… onto their...onto her fingernails.

Hope, for the first time in a long while, felt within reach.


	4. Wordings

**A/N: **A new year gift from me to you - chapter four! It's a little shorter than the rest - a brief reprieve before the more angsty chapters to come. 2014 was a year of greater awareness and education of issues that people in the transgender community face, but also served as a stark reminder of the cost and consequences of refusing to recognise and accept someone's gender identity. Here's hoping 2015 sparks a change.

Thanks to readers Mari Vargas, crimsonelf and Kris for your lovely words on past chapters. A reminder that you can ask me questions about this story and its issues through my tumblr littlemissmionie, where you can also find drafts, teasers and banners.

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><p><strong>4. Wordings<strong>

HARRY AND GINNY'S SHOCK SPLIT!

HARRY THE HARPY HEARTBREAKER

CAREERS COME FIRST FOR WIZARDING WORLD'S FAVE COUPLE

IT'S BEEN OVER FOR MONTHS, A CLOSE FRIEND REVEALS

BOOZE AND TEMPER TANTRUMS TO BLAME IN POTTER/WEASLEY SPLIT

"It's not that bad, Mum. Really, I think the worst headline is where they tried to tie in the whole 'boy who lived' thing," Ginny said weakly to her mother as Mrs Weasley looked at she and her ex-boyfriend Harry, distressed at the sudden news that had come swooping in with the morning post.

BOY WHO LIVED'S ROMANCE DIES, Harry read the headline that Mrs Weasley clutched to her chest. He kept his eyes trained on the paper as he sat at the breakfast table with the whole gamut of the Weasley family watching him. He may be family to them, but breaking up with Ginny had possibly brotherly consequences Harry wouldn't like to imagine._ And it had started off as such a normal saturday brunch at the Burrow_, Harry reflected.

"I am upset that you two broke up, of course, Ginevra, not about the headline!" Molly admonished. "However, I am most upset that I had to hear it from that Rita Skeeter copy cat, Jessica Hester! You couldn't have owled your mother first, given her the heads up?"

Ginevra squirmed. "I'm sorry, Mum," she said in a soft voice, unlike her. Harry could see their confrontation had shaken her quite a bit. It was the first time they'd seen each other, at the Weasley family's monthly big brunch. He wondered how everything with Valmai had gone.

"I'm sorry, too, Mrs Weasley," Harry apologised. "I guess we just didn't know how to tell you; I guess we were still processing it ourselves…"

Molly shushed them both, before looking at them with wet, sad eyes. "You are really over?"

Both Harry and Ginny nodded.

"And it obviously wasn't booze. Harry can't hold liquor to save his life." Ron snorted at this judgement from his mother. "You do both have a bit of a temper…"

"We just grew apart," Ginny explained awkwardly after a moment, aware her whole family was waiting to see how she acted around Harry. "It was a mutual decision."

"So this means we can't kill Harry?" George asked dejectedly after a moment. "Damn. Pass the bacon, will you?"

And that's basically how it went with the Weasley's. They were a hotheaded lot, sure, but they were happy to continue loving Harry if Ginny didn't find it too bothersome. It was obvious they didn't hate each other, and thankfully, that seemed enough for the rest of the family.

"Maybe _en temps_ you'll find eeeach ozer again," Fleur added unhelpfully as little Victoire tried to steal her mother's scrambled eggs when she wasn't looking.

Ginny looked down at her meal. Harry knew from the way she blinked very fast and her ears went red that she was trying not to cry. Harry squeezed her hand in reassurance. _You're not alone in this_, he tried to convey. He felt guilty for not telling her the truth about his gender when he had confronted her about her sexuality. It wasn't fair; he wanted to remedy it, soon.

Ginny squeezed back, and they passed the rest of brunch in amicable but still awkward quiet.

The Weasley brothers, Ginny, Angelina and Harry ended up playing a game of Quidditch to loosen the tension. There was a bludger shot that Harry was sure Bill threw very close towards him on purpose, but apart from that incident, it didn't seem like the Weasley's were going to kick Harry out of the family. It hadn't been a real concern for Harry, but it certainly was a possibility that lurked in his mind.

Ron and Harry discussed the Cannons' chances for the grand final this year as they spelled away their brooms after the game. It was the first time Harry had properly spoken to Ron in a couple of weeks. Harry felt anxious, like he had a big neon sign flashing and pointing at his head, bearing the words 'I am not a guy, and I dumped your sister because of it'.

Ron had never been good with words, or confrontation, and he wasn't going to start now, it seemed. "You didn't cheat on Ginny, did you, Harry?" he blurted out.

"No! No way," Harry replied vehemently. "_Neither_ of us cheated. We just stopped...y'know, er, loving each other like that." Harry had never been comfortable saying the 'l' word when it came to talking about Ginny with his best mate. It kind of grossed Ron out - not that he'd need to ever worry again after all that had transpired.

"Er, okay, good. Bloody hell, I mean, it's not good that you don't l-love each other, but good you didn't, er…" Ron winced. "I need a drink. At least I don't have to think about you two...doing it anymore."

"No, but I have the pleasure of hearing about what Hermione likes in the bedroom for _years_ to come," Harry teased to lighten the mood. Ron was pretty private when it came to he and Hermione's relationship. It was definitely strange being best friends with two people in a relationship: hearing about one's sex antics from the other felt a little weird and intrusive to the other. Harry and Ron usually just had an unspoken agreement that if they talked about sex, they both pretended Ron was dating Lavender so it wouldn't get weird when talking about how to best please their intelligent witch friend. It worked...for the most part.

"Hey, at least we aren't eating rotten turnips anymore," replied Ron, which was his favourite way to remark on what trivial things irked them now the way was over. Hermione, who had tried her best during those months in the tent, would send him a sour look everytime this phrase was uttered.

Harry rolled his eyes. Nothing changed with Ron, at least.

Harry and Ron bid farewell to everyone and they apparated to Hermione's apartment to chill out for the rest of the lazy saturday. Hermione's saturday would not be so lazy: she had an interview for the Wizarding court case aide position.

"Why is your interview on a saturday?" Harry asked Hermione as he hopelessly lost another pawn in his game of chess with Hermione's boyfriend. Hermione was pacing around the kitchen where Harry and Ron played, practicising interview responses.

"Lawyers often work seven days a week; crime doesn't take a weekend break."

"That sounds like a television catchphrase," Harry replied.

"That sounds daft, an interview on a saturday," Ron responded. He looked up to see Hermione glaring daggers at him. "Good luck, love," he added, blowing her a weak kiss.

Hermione sighed and went to get dressed. She came out of her room ten minutes later, her hair and makeup done in a way Harry hadn't seen since they'd been to one of the dozens of funerals two years ago. Hermione looked at the boys nervously, standing awkwardly in her pencil skirt. "Well...how do I look?"

Ron made a strangled noise, forgetting his chess move. "Er...really, really hot."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "I can't look sexy, Ronald, it's an interview! Is my shirt buttoned up enough?!"

Harry laughed. "Ron's just being Ron. I think you look very professional with all your buttons done up and the, ah, black heels-things." Harry made the pretense of not knowing the name kitten-heels and refrained from blurting out that he'd kill to try them on. "A perfect student aid for a giant legal case."

"You tease."

"I do not, Mrs Weasley."

Hermione got so riled up at that old joke her potion-smoothed hair almost crackled with magic. "It's Miss Granger - oh, _now_ you are teasing me. Ha-_ha_."

"What's wrong with taking my name?" Ron said in mock-outrage as he moved to check Harry in chess. The bishop swung and decapitated Harry's red queen. The white pawns cheered in victory.

"It's an out-dated tradition, along with the fact that we aren't married," Hermione said over her shoulder, now rushing around to grab her portfolio and handbag. "Look, I don't have time for this. Oh, where are my keys?"

Ron waved his wand and Hermione's keys gently soared from the coffee table into her hands. He got up and gave Hermione a kiss on the lips, smoothing a hand down her hair. It was such a lovely gesture from the normally bumbling Ron. He could definitely be surprising.

"You'll be great, Hermione," he said reassuringly. Hermione's anxiety seemed to deflate at his words.

"Thank you," she responded quietly, before heading out to her front step and apparating with a soft 'pop'.

Hermione found herself in front of the firm's main office quicker than she'd anticipated. She was almost twenty minutes early for the interview.

Madge Lune, _Hecate and Associate's_ founder member and head of their main legal team, was her interviewer. Sweet Merlin, she didn't think this job was important enough to be interviewed by Ms Lune herself.

Hermione felt a little dizzy as she sat down in a rigid chair behind a mod white desk. Ms Lune had a quick quill writing notes as she asked questions. The other two staff were content with writing their own notes, but it seemed Ms Lune wanted to keep eye contact with Hermione.

Most of them were questions Hermione had meticulously studied and prepared for, such as her qualifications and current studies, her aspirations, what she knew about Hecate and its values, how she could best help the firm on this particular case. Hermione pointed to references from McGonagall and Flitwick about her own note taking skills and initiative as a tutor, as well as her university professor's positive recollection as she helped him with a project last summer on Elfish Welfare. Ms Lune, who told Hermione to call her Madge, seemed very interested in Hermione's past volunteer work in House Elf Rights.

Hermione felt prepared, even for the last question.

The third staffer conferred with Madge for a moment before asking finally, "You have a very public history of working with Mr Harry Potter in his defeat against He Who Must Not Be Named. How can we be assured that no bias will befall you when we are representing clients who were on the losing side of the war?"

It was a big question. Kind of rude, on the outset - it wasn't particularly in Hermione's job description as a legal intern to have the power where her bias could be manifested in their defence. Legal interns fetched pumpkin juice and coffee, attended meetings, took minutes and notes, conducted research and recommended ideas to their superiors - they weren't going to be in the courtroom speaking. But her prominent role in Voldemort's downfall certainly begged the question.

So Hermione turned to the final section of her portfolio, where she had begun her research for possible legal defences and evidence for one of Hecate's clients, a person whom she held much distaste for, Draco Malfoy.

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><p><em> Please review! <em>


	5. Endings

**5. Endings**

**A/N: **Thank you to the wonderful people who reviewed last chapter - it is very humbling to hear that a few transgender readers are enjoying the story. (A reminder, I'm cis). I'm very grateful for the reception so far. I've had a few comments about Hermione and Harry talking about the law that I'd like to address quickly here. Hermione's studying to be a lawyer. She has to put aside her own personal feelings for certain criminals in order to do rightly and justly by her career and the Wizarding law. Harry and Ron express how we would all feel - Hermione's the lawyer's perspective, the impartial and fair one. Why is this taking place in this story? I didn't want this story to just be Harry's transition. As a historian, I am interested in the recovery process after war time, and let's be honest, the Wizarding World isn't going to be hunky-dory after Voldemort's dead. It's not like George lost an ear, endgame. Only Death Eaters did terrible things, endgame. There's lots of angst and grey areas for me to play with, and I intend to explore! Harry's transition needed a realistic backdrop - I can only hope you will enjoy it as it unfolds!

**Trigger warning** as this chapter explores gender dysphoria, ignorance of trans issues and references gender confirmation surgery.

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><p>A month flew by. It was so busy, Harry wondered how he'd stayed on top of it all. It all fell into place, really: pretending to be Harry Potter, focusing on his Disguise assignment of turning himself into an unrecognisable male, babysitting Teddy, hanging out with Ron and his mates at the pub; all the while, he was mastering charming himself into the woman he wanted to physically be, working up the courage to go to a counselling session, trying not to drown in the anxiety and depression that had only manifolded since beginning to embrace his transition.<p>

Hermione had won the position as a legal intern; there were two others battling it out to be the most adored intern, but Hermione was putting herself ahead of the pack with her sheer natural intelligence. The Wizarding World in the UK was abuzz with the Death Eater trials - they were only two weeks ago, and the verdict was symbolically hoping to come through close to the anniversary of the final battle. There was media coverage and protests in the streets for maximum penalties of the Dementor's Kiss, which had been outlawed years ago. Everyone in their year at Hogwarts was whispering about Draco Malfoy who was the only Death Eater of their peers able to stand trial - Pansy Parkinson had gotten off long ago on an insanity defence, and Blaise Zabini had taken his life weeks after the battle. Everyone was morbidly hungry to see what punishment would be served.

For now, the papers had forgotten Harry Potter. Most days, even though he felt so alive at the knowledge he was realising his true self, Harry wish he could forget himself too.

"Up! Up!"

Teddy was tugging on the ankles of Harry's jeans, demanding that he get on the toy broom Ginny had bought him on his first birthday. Harry swished his wand and Teddy delightedly crowed as he began to whiz around on the Baby Nimbus 2100. Harry was babysitting Teddy at his own house for the day after he and Andromeda had had lunch with Hermione, Ginny and Luna. It was Tonks' birthday. They had celebrated and commemorated by regaling each other with stories of Tonks and talking about how she'd like to see Teddy raised. The girls talked mostly; Harry didn't feel like he knew Tonks that much, and so just played peekaboo with Teddy most of the time.

Andromeda had gone to lie down for a while at home, and Harry and his friends had offered to take little Teddy for a while. Harry felt a little weirded out about having Ginny back in his apartment, but she didn't seem to share this feeling. Luna's lovely but always baffling one-liners made it a little more awkward for Harry, but again, Ginny just carried on like it was completely normal that she was at her ex's place. Hermione was letting Teddy zoom in and around her legs while Ginny helped herself to the Butterbeer she knew Harry kept in the upper left compartment of he and Neville's fridge.

Harry didn't want to admit that he missed Ginny. He missed the physical contact; someone to hold close. (He missed the sex, too, but that was the minor, rather ungallant side of Harry). Letting whatever love they had fade was a slow process, and sometimes he resisted the urge to owl her to come over. But she loved someone else, and he was someone else, so it could never work out.

They all chatted for a while about random stuff, young magical folk stuff, before Harry went to change Teddy's diaper (he was still in the process of toilet-training) and put him to sleep for an afternoon nap. It gave time for Harry to collect his thoughts and resolve: he wanted, no; he _needed_ to tell Ginny. He felt he owed her the truth for breaking up with her. Her infidelity was only half the reason, and she knew that, deep down. Harry had also been thinking that he could use Ginny and Luna's help in terms of having both a support base and a transition inspiration base. With Hermione now a Hecate legal intern, she didn't need Harry's stress on her all the time - and he needed further support. Secondly, he considered both Ginny and Luna attractive both superficially and intrinsically. They were, like Hermione, the type of extraordinary woman he'd like to be. He had been wondering if they could help him figure out how to be more conventionally feminine.

Harry came back to Hermione and Ginny discussing the pros and cons of Muggle films. Luna was perusing Harry's living room, where she came across his bookmarked charms textbook. She flipped through a few pages. Luna floated over to Harry and grabbed his right hand. "I love your nail polish colour, Harry, it's as dark green as a fire."

Harry half-froze at her comment. Ginny looked over at him, and when their gaze met, she smiled after a moment; Harry could see now that she was simply _determined_ not be weirded out.

"I didn't know you painted your nails, Harry," Ginny said softly. "The colour goes great with your eyes."

Ginny seamlessly turned to her pale-haired friend. "And Luna, since when are fires _dark green_?"

Hermione gave Harry a look that told him to be bolstered by Ginny and Luna's non-reaction. He took the segue and asked the two witches to sit down.

With Hermione's help, Harry told them the truth: that he'd been playing dress up as a boy for too long, and that he finally wanting to begin being his truth self; female.

"So right now, I guess, I identify as someone called transgender. I am a trans woman. I always have been a girl..."

He stopped and looked at the two young women. Suddenly, Harry felt like it was a big mistake; he wished he could gobble up all the words he'd spewed forth and shove them down his throat. Saying it out loud was scary. Being Harry, the real Harry Potter, was scary right now; the rejection from the people he loved dearly was a scary probability.

Harry's heart ached as he looked into Ginny's eyes.

Ginny looked at Harry, horrified. Harry swallowed and tried not to cry. "Gin, if you don't want..." They may not be dating, her approval kind of meant the world to Harry.

"...I really am a lesbian," Ginny interrupted in an odd, distracted voice.

"Oh, there's a subgroup of Blibbering Humdingers that are lesbians!" Luna interjected excitedly.

Harry and Hermione stared at them both, completely baffled.

"You're gay?" Hermione echoed.

Ginny didn't look at Hermione, having only eyes for Harry, but nodded slowly. Harry could see she was trying not to cry, but her chin wobbled. "I loved you and you're a woman," Ginny explained in a strained voice. "And I loved someone else who is a woman. S-so I guess I just have to face the facts that I'm a lesbian."

Harry let that sink in for a moment.

"You think I'm a woman?" Harry finally whispered.

Ginny confusedly replied, "Isn't that what you just said you are?"

Harry found himself stuck for words. Hermione sighed and explained for a quite struck Harry. "Even though you completely took Harry's issue and turned the focus on you, Ginny, that is actually the most lovely and accepting thing you could have said." Hermione squeezed Harry's hand in reassurance. "Also, thank you very much for confiding in me about your sexuality."

Ginny sniffed. "Don't tell Ron. Does...he know about you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Not yet. Y'know him, he doesn't really react well."

The redheaded woman nodded in agreement. "Merlin, we're a fucked up lot."

"Hey, there's nothing effed up about any of you!" Hermione protested.

"Easy for you to say, smartest witch of the century," the youngest Weasley muttered in reply. "So Harry. Does it mean...you're going to charm yourself to look like a woman? Because beauty charms, as you must be aware of by now, don't last very long. Most of us youngins use Muggle makeup, contrary to popular belief, otherwise we'd all look like Pansy Parkinson on a good day."

This was true. Harry's nail polish experiments only stayed on for four hours or so before fading.

"I'm not sure. I think I want to take it a step at a time. Start with small things, like nail polish. Not being called 'he'. Maybe….maybe changing my name. The appearance stuff is really important, I mean…" Harry thought of the way he looked. His famous scar, his messy but short hair, his defined and muscular jawline, the lean rigidity of his muscles from Auror training. His gender was _who he was_, he was _that identity_ just out of reach on the inside; he was his soul, not the body that was visible. But to eventually have more shapely eyebrows, to have breasts, to not have facial hair….those would be an outward expression of his female self. One he envisaged very much. "It's me adjusting to everything on the inside, the stuff you can't see, that matters the most right now."

Luna nodded serenely in agreement. Hermione looked like she was going to shed a tear of pride for Harry's one-time eloquent expression.

"We can help you with cosmetics and dressing if you like, Harry," Luna offered lovingly. "And names too! Father and I used to play such fun games naming all of the creatures in our garden."

It was a very nice gesture of Luna (although Harry hoped they could all think of better names than a Crumple-Horned Snorkack).

Ginny grabbed Harry's hand, and gave him a nervous smile. "Um, Harry…." she asked nervously. "You aren't going to get rid of your cock, are you? I may be gay, but it was a still pretty banging penis."

Harry felt anger and shame rise up in his chest, coiling painfully. He wrenched his hand out of Ginny's grasp. "That's such a fucking rude question, Ginny," he spat, raising his voice. Teddy whimpered at the sound, still half-asleep in the next room.

Hermione had tactfully avoided talking to Harry about his private parts. They were, well, _private_, and even best friends have their limits of acceptable, comfortable conversation.

As to his genitalia… Harry didn't know how to feel. Did he want it there? He wasn't sure. It reminded his of masculinity, which he hated and rejected. After perusing many online forums and talking to his counsellor, Harry had learned that some people chose to keep their genitalia while others didn't. Like most things that came with being trans, it was up to the individual's wishes.

Ginny's question hurt deep down, though. It limited his identity to nothing more than an appendage. Tears welled in his eyes and Harry fought back the urge to cry. He hadn't cried in front of people many times, and he still didn't enjoy the feeling. He just wanted to escape to his room. God, then there was still Teddy he had to take back home…

Fuck. He felt like this had all gone so wrong. He was just the very precipice of transitioning; had he 'come out' too soon? Did he even really know what aspects of being female he truly wanted? He covered his face in his hands and heard Ginny start to apologise.

"You're reducing his gender down to his penis, Ginny, and that's not okay at all," Hermione shot at Ginny in a deadly low voice. "Is your sexuality just simply the sexual acts your perform, or is it about the love you feel and who you are? Are we witches just because we can wave a wand, or because we have magic in our lives?"

"I'm so sorry," Ginny said, and burst into tears again. Harry didn't particularly feel like comforting her. Harry got the sneaking suspicion Hermione was also silently judging Ginny for cheating on Harry, so it was left to Luna to pat her awkwardly on the back. Harry swiped away his own tears furiously.

Teddy began to fuss in the next room. Hermione offered to go check on him.

"I didn't mean to be so mean…" Ginny tried to say weakly as Hermione ducked out. "It's just been such an emotional day."

Harry calmed himself down enough to speak. "It was a mistake," he concluded. "I guess I'm going to run into that question more than once. It just startled me, that's all. Can we just avoid that topic from now on?"

Ginny and Luna both nodded. They all accioed tissues and eventually Luna and Hermione apparated home. Harry and Ginny together dropped Teddy off at Andromeda's before Harry took Ginny the long way home, apparating in the nearest village to walk to the Burrow from there. They linked arms. Harry revelled in the scent of Ginny that smelt like home and safety, and in the warmth of her touch.

"I would have never guessed you always knew you were a woman, Harry. It feels like there were no signs."

"I feel the same way about you being a lesbian. Are you...still seeing her? Valmai?"

Ginny shook her head. "She's out already; she couldn't handle me freaking out all the time, worried that someone would see. She said I could only go on that journey alone….or some shite."

"I wonder what the papers would say if they could see us now walking arm in arm," Harry wondered.

"They'd probably jump for joy, have bets on whether or not I was pregnant." Ginny and Harry reached the edge of the Weasley property, and stood facing each other.

"Why does being yourself have to be so disappointing for everyone else?" Ginny asked him sadly.

Harry shook his head; he couldn't give her an answer. Ginny didn't seem to need one. She reached up on her tiptoes, and in the white evanescent glow of the moon, they shared a parting nighttime kiss. It was as quick as the twinkle of a star.

Ginny broke away. "That was goodbye for us," she whispered, and kissed him again. "And hello to the real Harry and Ginny, whoever they are."

The moment passed and Ginny tried to infuse cheer into the brisk night with a parting quip. "Next week I'll come around and you can find me a girlfriend from your Auror class while I teach you how to dress like one!"

With a shaky laugh, Harry let Ginny go, the ghost of their relationship fading into the afterlife on his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And so that's the end of Harry and Ginny. I thought it was fair to give them a longer break up and a really chance to say goodbye. Please review! If you can guess what passage from HBP I reversed for a certain scene, you get internet confetti from me.


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